Perfection Through Silence
by Sahara Storm
Summary: [Oneshot, GinRan, GinKira] Drinking with Kira is starting to make Matsumoto a melancholy drunk. Remind her to never do it again.


**Title:** Perfection Through Silence

**Fandom:** Bleach

**Pairing: **Vague, have-to-read-between-the-lines Gin/Rangiku and Gin/Izuru.

**Rating: **PG

**Word Count:** 574

**Summary/Description:** Drinking with Kira is starting to make Matsumoto a melancholy drunk. Remind her to never do it again.

**Warning/Spoilers:** Spoilers up to Episode 63, which is the equivalent of chapter 181-ish, or so.

**A/N: **Written for Measuringlife's weekly challenge. Prompt: _My Drug_, by Cherryfalls. Alternative theme: _perfection through silence_. GinKira is like, my guilty pleasure. It's something about Kira's unending loyalty, that just… GAH. Gin… I really don't know why I love him so much, since he is a creepy asshole. But I do. Adore him. And the pwningness of GinRan is totally made more awesome by the fact that, haha, it's canon. :P

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Stop gloating, Kubo Tite.

* * *

Unlike the last times, they were quiet.

Hitsugaya wasn't there for Matsumoto to harass, and it seemed as though as time passed, it became harder for both vice-captains to bring up the traitor that they loved. So there was silence.

They were going through their fourth bottle; the afternoon had just begun. Matsumoto drained her cup, and rest it on the table before her. Without having to be asked, Kira picked up the bottle and gave her a refill of the now slightly cold sake. She smiled, nodded absently and picked it up again. She sipped, and her companion followed suit.

They each knew what the other was thinking, but neither of them deigned to mention the most substantial thing that they had in common: Ichimaru Gin. Even so, the air in the room swallowed the moisture and shrank away as if the former Third Squad Captain was right there in its midst, his eerie smile cut across his face.

Kira wondered if they were both subconsciously trying to heal themselves through silence. Who knew; it might have worked. As such, he rather resented Matsumoto for breaking the silence, even before she did it. At the same time, though, he knew that it was inevitable that he, if not she, would have said it sooner or later anyway. It was not in their nature to leave demons un-exorcised.

"What is it about him, do you suppose?" The blonde's husky, full voice sounded genuinely confused, and only the slightest bit garbled. She lifted her eyes to meet his, and he was struck by how weary she looked.

The paler of the two hesitated a bit before answering.

"I'm not sure." He paused, and looked into his sake cup. A drawn, unfamiliar face blinked back at him forlornly, rippled and shaky in the liquid's reflection. "Everything about him screams underhandedness, and cunning, and slyness, and falsity… but nonetheless… he just makes you _believe_." He looked up, not sure if Matsumoto knew what he meant. She had known Ichimaru-taichou for longer, and was slightly wiser to his eccentric ways.

She was nodding at him, though, and in a way that said she understood. Kira finished his shot, and poured himself another before continuing.

"And… and he had a way of making you think that… he wanted to be saved. From himself."

"Yeah." Some sake spilled out the corner of her lips as she put the cup to her mouth and threw back. "I hated that about him," she said in a vehement whisper. Her eyes narrowed.

"Me too." Kira looked absolutely dejected, his friend noted, and that lost look was wandering into his eyes. They had glazed over in such a short time, and those circles beneath his eyes were beginning to look like luggage. Matsumoto wondered if she was looking into a mirror.

Then she caught herself, shook herself up roughly, and regarded her friend sharply.

"Drinking with you is starting to make me a melancholy drunk, Kira. Remind me to never do this again."

Kira nodded jadedly. He raised his cup to her, and managed not to slur when he said,

"To our health."

A nod.

"And all that jazz."

The Third Squad Vice-captain might have been going to say something in reply, but the silence made a sudden return, and the words died stillborn in his throat. The noiselessness remained, through nine more bottles, disturbed only by the soft thud when Matsumoto passed out.

* * *

**A/N:** I find it so bittersweet that these two are chums. 


End file.
